No More Learning

Erewhile 'twas corn resplendent and unstained,
Or crystal, that through morning radiance shone,
Now flowing agate, deep and sombre-veined,
Then like a crimson sparkling precious stone.
What as a gurgling softly simmered through
The soil, within the dead deserted brake,
--And no more than a drop of fragrant dew
That fell from flowerlet unto deepest lake:
Becomes the clinging mist that cleaves the heights,
And which in darkest midnights as a beam
The heart of the chasm suddenly be-smites
To spring and ramble like a ruddy stream.
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? XXI
As long as tinted haze the mountain covered,
Upon my course the track I soon discovered.
And through the copse a few known voices stray,
Now all is silent on the evening way.
Now no one fares awhile my road, forsaken,
I find no wight within me hope to waken,
Who yet the smallest solace might implore,
So deep in darkness plods no pilgrim more.
And with the dying strain--the songful cricket--
Remembrance too fades in the silent thicket,
A fallow vapour broods the woods around
And veils the pathway without gleam or sound.
A damp and death-like odour from the hollow
--Where all must slumber--rises, yet I follow
Thy wafture still, which fire enkindles new
And Thy great love which ever watches true.

? The Disciple
YB speak of raptures that are void and friendless,
With me all love ascends towards my Lord,
Ye know alone the luscious, I the endless,
I live but for mine endless Lord.
More than for any work your guild adjureth,
Am I ordained to labour for my Lord,
Thus I will prosper, for my Lord endureth,
I ever serve my kindly Lord.
I know the way we tread is dark and snary
And many fainted, yet beside my Lord
I dare all dangers, for my Lord is wary,
I ever trust my wary Lord.
And should he deem it well, and ne'er requite me
My comfort is the vision of my Lord,
Are others richer, he is the most mighty,
I follow my most mighty Lord,
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? Azure Hour
LOOK at this azure hour.
Dissolving o'er the garden tent,
It brought a joyful dower,
For sisters pale a sweet lament.
Resplendent, fleet and flowing
It hastens with the clouds; behold
An offering's-billet glowing:
It tells what it bestowed when cold.
"That it so swiftly passes"
--For thus in rapt regret we trow--
A night of joy amasses
Its wealth of arches even now.
Tis like a burden olden
That renders grave or renders gay,
In heaven new and golden
Still charms and thrills when died away.
40

? A Boy who Sang to me of Autumn and
Evening
I STOOD in summer waiting. Now with pallor,
I see the scarlet flag already waving;
It means the harvest-hirelings' dance with Death;
With unpicked fruitage tempest-toused and torn.
Now all that faith, so free from care, hath vanished,
Now in the short respite I haste and gather
Of all remaining, binding leaf and blossoms;
Half withered marvels of my sorrowed hand.
My hand in dedicative worship lifts
In shame on high to thee the scattered off'ring,
No more a token of imagined glory,
--Although with many a precious tear-drop shining--
No more a choice of rare and wondrous jewels,
That fain from destiny for thee I'd conquer,
Than e'er the tale of hellish love and hatred
Can spread by this subdued and falt'ring voice.
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? July Melancholy
BLOSSOMS of summer, rich is your fragrance
still,
Breezes blend with the bitter scent of seed.
You lead me to the withering balustrade,
The gardens' sesame has become so strange.
From the forgotten you call forth dreams; the
child
Reposing on the ground in the corn-clad fields,
In harvest-glow beside the naked mowers.
Beside the shining scythe and exhausted jug.
Sleepily lull the wasps in the noon-day song,
And through the meagre shelter of the blades
Upon his sunburnt forehead slowly trickle
The poppy-petals: large red drops of blood.
Transience ne'er can rob me of aught that
has been,
Languishing just as erewhile on the languish-
ing field,
I lie: from languid lips there sighs " how weary
Am I of all the flowers--the lovely flowers. "
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